


in which love doesn’t ruin us

by joesnick



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel 616
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Marriage Proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:19:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25512703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joesnick/pseuds/joesnick
Summary: “Idiot,” Bucky said, so natural and deliberate that she couldn’t hear well but it was there. Relief and happiness under a small light. “Don’t do that to me again.”“Hey, I’m here,” Sam said, before getting closer and pressing his forehead against Bucky’s. “I’m here.” They ran out of words. They didn’t need them, not at that moment. Their steadying breaths and their tenderness, saved only for each other and fed by each other, was all they needed.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Sam Wilson
Comments: 16
Kudos: 43





	in which love doesn’t ruin us

**Author's Note:**

> thank u so much @siancore for beta this for me, u’re awesome  
> and letícia and marina, thanks for supporting me, ily 💕
> 
> also one thing i need to make clear so you won’t be confused: the story happens in the 616 universe and steve did died and came back later.

> “I don’t think of love as the answer or the solution. I think of love as a force of nature – as strong as the sun, as necessary, as impersonal, as gigantic, as impossible, as scorching as it is warming, as drought-making as it is life-giving. And when it burns out, the planet dies.”
> 
> — Jeanette Winterson, _LIGHTHOUSEKEEPING_

**SHARON**

The mission had made her notice them more closely than before.

Technically Sharon had always looked at Sam and Bucky with different eyes than the rest. She and Natasha both did, to be more exact, but Nat had always been more rational about it, more _let them deal with it_ regarding the pair than Sharon. Part of her could always tell they belonged to each other. They had _always_ belonged to one another.

So when she had told Bucky _he likes you, ask him on a date_ , or when she said to Sam, _the way he looks at you, it’s special_ , even before they had been together, was because she knew and she could see a future they couldn’t. Steve had told her that maybe it was her hidden romantic heart and the necessity to see her friends happy. But Steve had died before and lost a good deal of what Bucky and Sam’s relationship had grown into: Lovely hands at each other and breathless looks.

Sharon had always looked at Sam and Bucky with different eyes than other people, but only in this mission, in particular, Sharon realized that even she hadn’t seen all there was. It’s the details, she thought, the little acts of intimacy and affection in which their love lied.

The mission was bloody, gross — with fresh open bodies, a couple of heads on the floor, a smell that stuck on her hair for an entire week — and unpredictable.

She had been a soldier for long enough to know dead bodies came later. And they died by her hands.

But not this time. And she fucking hated it.

It should have been simple. Their plan. It wasn’t. It should’ve.

12 kids aged between 14 and 21 kidnapped by Hydra. 12 healthy but poor and orphaned kids that on another occasion, if Bucky hadn’t noticed, wouldn’t be missed.

It was another part of the job she hated. How she couldn’t make people care as well as they did.

“Hydra wants new soldiers. They want twelve versions of what they did to Barnes. There’s no need to explain why this can’t happen under any circumstance. I’m sending you the best of my men, Carter,” said Fury as Sharon lifted her eyes to meet his; both gazes fierce and sharp. “Bring them in alive. We have 48 hours. After that the Feds are taking the case.”

Sharon was a capable Agent. She could get the task done. Handle her duties and responsibilities; she was better than most others, which is why Fury entrusted her with such an important mission and she felt ready. But Sharon had committed a mistake. A mistake she shouldn’t. She underestimated them. She trusted her plan. She forgot Hydra always had tricks under their sleeves. Sometimes she could feel it was about to happen but couldn’t see.

But the truly worst was this: Hydra was tireless. Hydra was unstoppable. The world fought against them the night she was born. The world had long been in battle with them, even before she was born and, decades later, they battled still.

When Sharon, followed by Bucky, Sam and eighteen SHIELD agents, entered the lab, there was nothing but open, exposed bodies under metal tables. The smell of blood, something acidic and lemony from cleaning products was overwhelming. No guards. No doctors. No mad man with a spiky nose and unkempt hair and a big black coat that reminded Sharon of a British general. Nothing. Just dead bodies and a feeling of wrongness.

Sam looked at Bucky. A simple but meaningful look was shared. Sharon knew what it meant. Four men had been killed to get in. No cameras. No backup.

Sam and Bucky and Sharon had spent sleepless nights studying Hydra files for weeks. How to get in and how to get out; how many soldiers they’d find; what to expect; what could go wrong.

This. She hadn’t prepared herself for nothing.

The silence was loud. It screamed _something is wrong, something is wrong, something is wrong._

Because it was Hydra. She should have known they wouldn’t be easy. Even in silence they were planning on a larger scale, and when it happened, when their plans were put in action, too many innocent lives were lost.

Sharon looked at the other soldiers. Their guns in position, their eyes fiercely waiting.

Nothing happened.

Until it did.

Sam was the one to notice it.

“It’s the smell,” he said. Or maybe he screamed. She didn’t remember. Her vision blurred then turned into black and her mind had lost for unconsciousness.

* * *

Sharon awoke with her wrists and her ankles chained to a wall. The other soldiers were shacked in the same manner in a circular formation.

The room was disgusting. Wet, with a single, small window made of iron at a corner. Rats going from one side to another. Spiders near their heads. No water or food but she wasn’t expecting hospitality.

This was the moment she paid attention to Bucky and Sam. The moment she knew she had been right all along. Bucky was awake, chained on the walls like her, but managed to hold a lifeless Sam in his arms.

He had his hands on his cheeks. He whispered low and soft, “Sweetheart, please.”

Sharon could hear the desperation in his voice and she could see him holding his breath as Sam lacked his own, his tensed shoulders, the confusion and weakness in his eyes. Not all people would have noticed, however. Bucky Barnes had always been good at hiding his emotions. Covered them well so no one could find what he was most afraid of. But she was family. She knew him. He had let her.

“ _Sam_ ,” she heard again. “ _Sam, please_.”

Sam didn’t move.

For a moment she worried. Watched closer and remained quiet. Sam was her best friend. The brother she chose. Her family. Sam had been with her and knew her even when she didn’t know herself. When Steve died he was at the hospital with her and gave her a shoulder to cry on. When Hydra had taken her mind and made her their doll and drove her to madness, he was there to remind her of all things she was capable of. To rescue her when she couldn’t rescue herself. Sam had almost died for her and Steve’s happiness.

Sharon remembered so well that day: The bomb exploding in his hands and Sam’s body falling like a shooting star. A bright one and more than the world deserved.

She couldn’t lose him.

She wouldn’t.

And she didn’t.

Sam moved, opened this mouth and breathed in for air. Bucky froze and then relief washed over him. Sam coughed and held Bucky’s arm for support.

Sharon leaned back on the wall and sighed.

“Idiot,” Bucky said, so natural and deliberate that she couldn’t hear well but it was there. Relief and happiness under a small light. “Don’t do that to me again.”

“Hey, I’m here,” Sam said, before getting closer and pressing his forehead against Bucky’s. “I’m here.” They ran out of words. They didn’t need them, not at that moment. Their steadying breaths and their tenderness, saved only for each other and fed by each other, was all they needed.

* * *

It took hours to get everyone awake. And in their eyes burned questions and anger. Focus and skills to do whatever they needed to get out.

“We’ve been set up,” Sharon said, her dried throat made it difficult to form the words, it required strength. “They knew we were coming, when and how, for what.”

Silence.

Then: “Butler is missing,” an agent said. “He offered to be part of this mission since the beginning.”

Sharon closed his eyes and opened again.

 _Fuck_.

She liked him.

“Any clue of where we are?” she asked. “Still in the same building?”

“Same building,” Bucky said.

“Why’d they kidnapped us? Why not just kill us there?”

“I don’t know. But whatever they want to do, here is the place. It can be easily mistaken for a decaying fabric and the next house is too far. No one’s going search for anything here.”

Anger grew on her like a tree on the edge of a river. “How do we get out? We don’t have any weapons.”

“Not really,” Bucky said. He turned his glare from the ground to Sam. “Can you contact Redwing from here?”

“Yeah. But it might take a while. Who do you wanna call?”

“Steve.”

* * *

Anger.

Sam had always been protective of Bucky. He had always been the obvious one. The part of the relationship that asked _you’re okay?_ But knew the answer all along. The part that put his arms around the other waist for protection at night. The part that held hands in a way of assurance and told the world loudly about what he felt and how it felt. Pride was a rare type of protection.

He avenged Bucky.

Many times.

Bucky’s protection, on the other hand, had always been quieter. He took him home after a long night and cooked for him and _said you need to go to bed_ and held Sam when he missed his parents. When the world suffocated him.

But when Sam’s life was at risk there wasn’t nothing to prevent Bucky from being a bomb. And she witnessed it when the door opened. The light from outside hit like a bullet, white and bright. It hurt her eyes before they acclimated to the darkness.

A big man entered. He smiled big and wide. On his mouth, however, crooked black teeth, eyes red and hollow against a pale skin with thick unnatural veins and black inked tattoos. He had on his hands an archaic weapon, sharp and long. Unknowable. Behind him stood a line of men. They carried more chains and guns and knives. They didn’t look like Hydra. It was too brutal. Too messy. Too unclean.

Since she had been set free of Hydra after Steve’s death, she spent her time studying them, watching closely, methodically almost obsessively. They were smart and dangerous when necessary. Completely out of their minds. But never unpredictable. They had fought for the same cause since Steve had been born. The same fucking oppression and necessity of rule. A world under their hands that looked like them and thought like them.

Hydra was obsessed by what technology could give them: Control.

 _This?_ Archaic guns and big men with bulletproof suits? Not Hydra. Couldn’t be. The men walked through the chains and agents until he got to Sam. His smile didn’t fate as he lowered his eyes to look at Sam.

“I hope you remember me.” he said.

“A pretty face like yours?” Sam said. “Always.”

Sharon mentally begged for him to, just for once, not have a smartass retort for the bad guys. She heard Bucky whispering in a warning voice, “ _Sam_.”

He continued, “Tell me, did we ever sleep together? Because you don’t seem to be my—”

The tip of the man’s weapon hit Sam’s stomach before they realized it happened. An abrupt movement of Bucky gave the chains an aggressive sound. It hurt Sharon’s wrist that was already red and becoming purple. He kept moving forward but was not enough to reach the man.

Anger.

There is a monster inside of us that it’s only made to protect the ones we love. It is quiet until it is not. This monster doesn’t care about going too far. This monster’s not something to fear in ourselves.

The man laughed. Ugly and bitter. He hit Sam again and again as Bucky tried to set himself free. One thing the man didn’t know was that this laugher wouldn’t last longer. Sharon knew it. Bucky certainly knew it. And Sam did too.

It was impossible to care about living and hurt Sam Wilson at the same time. Not while Bucky Barnes lived.

Sharon was calm and even as summer air said, “You’ll regret this.”

And this time the smile came from her. For a moment, her reflection betrayed her and she moved back, waiting for a punch. Pain. But this man was pathetic.

“Remember me,” he said to Sam, “Or don’t remember me. I’ll take what I want from you and then I’ll kill your boyfriend in front of you, then your friend, and then you’ll be the last. I’ll make sure your pain will last longer.”

Sam lifted his head. Blood oozing out of his mouth. “You talk too much.”

They settled a knife around Sam and Bucky’s throat while they changed Sam from the chain on the wall to the chain on their hands. The work was done quickly. They did the same with Sharon but she was calmer about it. Externally at least.

She couldn’t help but remember her time under Hydra. The loss of her baby. The feeling she had lost her mind and killed the love of her life. Out in the clean bright corridors nurses waited for them with needles and stretchers. Desperation grew inside Sharon. It didn’t last longer. Once the needles touched her soft skin everything became black again.

* * *

After that, everything was a blur of moments she couldn’t piece together. What happened before and later would always be a mystery for her.

Sharon laid on that bed for a long time. The sheets were dark blue, the braid in her hair was messy, the metal tinkling endless. She bled and hurt. She was treated like a patient and an experiment. They brought her and Sam food that tasted like butt—

“I’m sure butt tastes better,” Sam said to her when she told him. The room was empty for the first time and both of them awake.

She couldn’t look at him but just feeling his presence was enough.

“When we leave this place,” she promised, “I’ll make us tacos. Tacos with wine. We will get so drunk that we won’t remember anything next morning.”

“Watching Dirty Dancing.”

“Yeah. Just you and me.”

“Sounds about right.”

Later she heard Sam’s screams for hours but she couldn’t reach him. She passed out and awoke so many times and each time she felt more and more time had passed. She felt weaker.

It all ended with the shape of Misty Knight at the door. A dark red suit never looked so much like a miracle.

In one moment she was studied and marked. The next the nurse fell on the floor, a bullet right through her head, and Misty was standing at the door, gun up. Annoyed and somewhat bored. Her suit was stained with blood. Too much blood.

It was strange to think Sam had almost married her now. He didn’t seem to have loved anyone before Bucky. It didn’t seem he’d love anyone after Bucky or if it was even a possibility.

But Sam did love her. Until he didn’t.

And now she was here and she took the chains off Sam and then Sharon.

As they ran on the corridors, barefoot and dirty, a little more out of reality than they should, piles of bodies were on the floor, some without heads. Some of them belonged to SHIELD’s agents.

She’d morn them later.

Sam held Sharon’s hand as Misty led them to the exit. In one of the doors she saw Steve. She would recognize him anywhere. Bright blue suit and bright blond hair. His hands threw a body out of a window.

In front of her there was Bucky.

Bucky and the crooked teeth man. Both covered with blood. Archaic weapon broken in half.

She and Sam didn’t move. Misty didn’t either.

The scene before them did not last, anyway. Bucky was quicker and made of sheer anger. He slit the man’s throat with the sharp knife that he kept on his pocket and broke his neck.

Bucky stood quiet for a moment. Looking at the body on the floor.

“Ugly,” Sam said.

“He made this ugly. Shouldn’t have hurt you.”

He walked into Sam, hugged him so tight Sharon could almost feel it.

“Buck. Honey. You’re hurting me.”

He let go of Sam and looked into his eyes. “Sorry. You okay?”

“I’m fine.”

Bucky looked at Sharon then and smiled slightly. “Sharon?”

“Yeah. I’m good,” she said. Though she didn’t know if that was actually true. At all. She wanted to go home.

Bucky moved his eyes slowly from Sam to Misty. Sharon couldn’t read what his eyes were telling.

“Thank you,” he said.

“You owe me one. I was on a break,” she replied. “Let’s get out of this place.”

They moved again. Walking through and between the corpses. She hadn’t seen this amount of bodies in a long time.

Sam’s hands were still on hers. She’d fall if he had let go. She couldn’t feel her legs right and she was tired.

“Was this really Hydra?” Sharon asked.

“Probably,” Bucky said, “I don’t care. We’ll burn this place either way.”

Outside the cold wind made her and Sam shiver.

Winter. She could see it on the frost on the windows and snow covering big thick trees all around. The ground covered in white like a long blanket. Steam escaped from her mouth as she tried to breathe.

The sweet blue sky had been covered with ravens.

“It is you?” she said to Sam. Even though she knew the answer already.

“Yep.”

The Quinjet waited for them. Clint and Nat stood inside of it with food and big coats. They were wrapped around coats as were the nine soldiers inside.

9 out of 18 that started this mission under her leadership and died.

She had failed.

When Steve left the building the fire had already begun. When he entered the Quinjet and held Sharon tightly, the door closed and they left the safe ground that wasn’t safe at all.

* * *

Later in the dark, still on the Quinjet heading home, she couldn’t sleep.

Clint was in charge with Nat at his side.

Steve slept on Sharon’s lap and the soldiers spread around the floor did the same.

Sam and Bucky lie side by side. Quietly lost in their conversation.

“I remembered him,” Sam said.

“Don’t do this to yourself.” It was _beg_ from Bucky while he caressed Sam’s cheeks with his fingers.

“He was a hitman born in Harlem. Had killed leaders of small communities before and had been sent to kill Brock Rumlow. Failed. That was why he came to me. I’d help his daughter, protect her if he quit. That was our deal. Quit and I protect your daughter.” There was a quiet moment before he began again. Bucky brought Sam closer. “Sin killed her.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I know. I could’ve done better, though.”

Sam lifted his eyes at Bucky and smiled this smile he only had for Bucky. This smile that was shy and reserved but honest and warm and sweet as cherry pie. This smile. Bucky would burn entire civilizations for this smile.

Sam rested his head on Bucky’s chest and closed his eyes. “You avenging me was kind of hot.”

“I hope I don’t need to do that often.”

“Yeah. Me too. Being kidnapped sucks.”

When she thought they were finally asleep, she heard Bucky say, in a whisper, “I love you too much.”

And Sam in what must have been the most soft voice she had ever heard replied, “I’ll always be here.”

This warmed her. Love. Maybe Steve was right after all and she had a hidden romantic heart. And it wasn’t a bad thing.

Sharon closed her eyes, too. For the first time in what could have been days she truly slept holding Steve’s hands. She was going home.

* * *

**MILES**

It was not easy to find Sam Wilson around Brooklyn like one might think. For this reason it was really surprising for Miles when he saw Sam on a Saturday morning buying coffee.

Miles had awoken, for some reason, craving for pancakes from a diner at the end of his street. It tasted like heaven.

When he left home his mom was working and his father still asleep after a night shift. The morning was lovely. It was spring after all. Cool air and sweet smells, beautiful trees with deep colors.

So he walked down the street from his apartment to the diner. The earphones were loud and he wasn’t paying attention to the adults talking or the kids playing football barefoot or the last stores opening their doors.

Nevertheless it made him calm. Knowing this was happening around him and he was just a small part of it. There were a lot of things he liked about Brooklyn and its residents: their ability to not care if he was dancing in the middle of a street or repeating the same Janet Jackson’s lyrics over and over again. (They had all adapted themselves to weirdness). He liked the crowd and the people. It was never empty. He liked that he didn’t need to leave it to taste the best breakfast.

It was when he opened the door of the diner, making its bell ring that he saw Sam. Or better almost bumped into him.

Sam. Sam Wilson.

He was this tall, muscular man and superhero with sunburnt eyes and a kind smile that only left his face when he was in deep thought or fighting. Captain America. The birds knew his name and no one else’s. Sam had told Luke he believed Miles could do great things. He believed in Miles. To Miles it meant more than he could have expected.

Because it had been Sam, he realized. Sam that grew around violence and saw both of his parents being killed yet stood for what he believed. It was Sam that fought for his people and their rights long before he had superpowers and a team.

Sam that was using what everyone was afraid to: His voice, louder.

Miles cared about Sam’s opinions about him. He cared a fucking lot.

Sam smiled to Miles as he took off his earphones.

“Hey, kid,” he said.

“Mr. Wilson.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Come on. You can call me Sam. I’m not that old.”

“Hm. A little,” Miles murmured.

“What?”

“Nothing. So what’re you doin’ here? I thought you lived in Harlem?”

“Me and Bucky moved here a few months ago.”

“Oh.”

Bucky and Sam were still together then.

Everyone knew about _Sam & Bucky._ Everyone that was a superhero and had fought by their side at least. It was a sweet story, Miles had heard. He didn’t know if it was the truth truth. But this is what had happened: Sam and Bucky met when Bucky Barnes was less than himself and known as The Winter Soldier. Not the superhero one. The controlled by Hydra one. Bucky had tried to kill Sam and later part of Sam still blamed Bucky for Steve’s death.

For the sake of finding Sharon and who killed Steve, they became partners. And later, friends.

This is what had happened: Bucky had fallen first. He cared about Sam in a way he cared, at that time, for very little people. He cared about what Sam thought of him and he cared about not letting him down. For a long time, there wasn’t Bucky without Sam and Sam without Bucky. They were inseparable. Like kids on the playground. Lovers at high school. Old couples at Central Park.

Except they weren’t lovers or a couple and when Misty and Sam started to date, and later engaged, Bucky walked away. It was Sam and Misty fighting together and Bucky on his own like it had been before.

This is what had happened: Sam had fallen later. Or realized it later. One day he called off the engagement. Some said it was Misty. Some said it was Sam. Miles thought it hardly mattered.

Sam had fallen later but deep enough to make oceans jealous.

When they started to date it was all people could talk about: the synchrony in which they fought together, the softness and tenderness, the love they had created for themselves only. Protected from the world outside.

It hadn’t been as big as when James Rhodes died and the news discovered he and Tony Stark had been married for almost ten years. But to Miles it was pretty damn close.

It’s the way they look at each other, Kamala had said. It’s sweet and it’s real.

“Miles,” said Sam.

Miles realized he had stopped functioning and looked at Sam dumbfounded for a while. “Uh?”

“You okay? You seem a little lost.”

“I’m fine! Great! Just thinking. That’s nice you’re living here. So does it mean I’ll see you more often?”

“Probably not. Too much work.” Sam seemed to think for a brief second. “Look, me and Bucky are making dinner for Steve and Sharon tonight. You can come if you want and call Kamala and Riri.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yes, Miles, really.”

“Damn. I’ll be there.”

Sam laughed. “Ok, kid. I gotta go now. Take care, Miles.”

Sam opened the door again and turning his back to him started to walk away.

“Wait!” Miles shouted. “I don’t know your address.”

“You will,” Sam said, not looking back.

Close to seven there were three ravens on Miles window. He knew it was Sam.

Their house wasn’t what Miles was expecting. It was a regular-sized apartment ten minutes away from where Miles lived. It had white brick walls and plants everywhere: anthurium at the front door, aloes at the corner of the kitchen’s window, Chinese evergreen and English Ivy hanging in the walls of the living room. The space was so welcoming and cozy: porcelain floor and glossy wood furniture, a TV that was on and playing a football game, an unorganized shelf with all kinds of books. From poetry to classics to autobiographies.

Sam’s shield laying where it was tossed at the end of the hall. In a little table made of glass under a circular mirror pictures were placed carefully. A black & white photo of a child and his parents, that Miles assumed it was Sam, Sam with a beautiful Black woman with kind smile and a baby on her arms, in another Sam and Bucky on a beach, and lastly Nat, Sam, Bucky, Sharon and Steve’s at Sharon and Steve’s wedding last summer.

The house smelled of a place someone could call home. On a brown couch a small white cat slept. Riri and Kamala sat on the couch, too, lost in their conversations with Sharon.

From the living room Miles could see Steve and Sam laughing in the kitchen while Sam took something out of the electric oven.

For some reason he couldn’t understand it was all strange to him. It looked too normal. Too _domestic_.

“Miles,” Bucky said when he returned from his room. He had his long hair in a bun and dressed in jeans and a blue t-shirt that matched his sea-kissed eyes. His shoulders relaxed enough for him to look like someone else entirely. It shouldn’t have surprised Miles like it did.

“I brought lasagna,” he said. “My mom made it.”

Bucky started to say, “That’s—” but then Sam’s voice called him:

“Buck. Come here a second I think Steve burned something.”

“What—,” Steve said, “Are you kidding me, that was all you.”

Bucky rolled his eyes but took the recipient from Miles hands. “I’ll make sure they don’t set our kitchen on fire. Thank you, Miles.”

He disappeared inside the kitchen with Steve and Sam and Miles sat on the couch at Kamala’s side. “Their house is nothing like I was expecting.”

And all Miles thought when he heard Kamala was _thank God I’m not the only one_ and said, “Right? It all feels so—”

“Normal?” Riri finished it for him. “Yeah. I don’t know what I was expecting but not this. Paintings and plants everywhere. I’m pretty sure some of them are real.”

“All of them are,” Sharon said. “From artists of Harlem and Brooklyn. Sam and Steve are passionate about them.”

“Nice.”

“Sam and Bucky are more normal than you think, kids. We all are. You’ll be, too.”

“It’s comfortable.”

And yeah. That was the word at the back of his mind. Comfortable. Miles thought that all they had been through would somehow reflect the way they lived. It didn’t. And it gave him hope that his life wouldn’t be much different.

* * *

Half an hour later they were all sitting at the table and the topic was Sam’s lack of ability to cook. Anything.

“Not even eggs,” Bucky said.

“That’s not true.”

“It _is,”_ Sharon agreed.

“You guys. I know how to do simple things like rice and eggs, I didn’t live with Bucky my entire life.”

“You burned the rice, more than once,” Bucky said. “Like it’s hard to make rice.”

“It _is_. ” Sam turned to Steve. “Steve. Back me up.”

Steve just smiled, quiet and smug at Sam, then drank his wine and didn’t say a word.

They all laughed at Sam’s offended expression. Mouth opened and eyes looking betrayed.

“Admit it, Wilson, you lost it.”

“Shut up, Barnes.” To Steve he added: “I can’t believe I invited you to my house and you do this to me.”

“Technically that’s Buck’s house, too.”

“You are practically married,” Kamala said.

The mention of marriage made Sam smile sweeter. Miles wouldn’t be surprised if they decided to marry at any point without explanation. But he wouldn’t be surprised if they didn’t, too.

Bucky stood up and started to take the dishes off the table. When he passed for Sam he kissed his hair, fondly. “Don’t worry, Sammy, I’ll cook for you for the rest of my life so you won’t need to.”

“You’ll do that ‘cause you don’t want to die poisoned.”

“That too.”

“I can create a machine for it,” Riri said.

“For food?” Kamala asked.

“Yeah, but like that cooks you any type of food you want without needing you for anything.”

“I don’t think it’ll be the same thing. I like homemade food. Especially my mom’s.”

But Miles was lost. Thinking and thinking about Sam and Bucky like never before. Maybe it was because he had ended a one-year relationship a week ago and he had been worrying that every relationship ended at some point. Or should end. And the ones that didn’t, like his parents, were the exception of the rule.

Miles had an entire life ahead of him. But still kept worrying about things he shouldn’t. Meaningless things that seemed meaningful.

Is a relationship less important if it didn’t last?

When Bucky sat at the table again Miles asked Sam, “How long are you two together?”

His voice surprised the table that seemed to move on from Sam’s bad food.

“What?”

“You and Bucky?”

“Hm. Almost four years.”

“That’s a lot of time.”

“It is.”

“How?”

Miles had no idea why he had asked it.

“What do you mean how?” Sam had his brows lifted but Miles could see he was interested in where this was going.

“Dunno. You guys look like you just fell in love with each other. I don’t know, I always thought people started to get bored of their partners.”

Sam was nothing less than surprised by the question. He leaned back in his chair and thought for a moment.

“I think,” he said, and looked right into Bucky’s blue-green eyes, “Love only works when you know what love is. Even unconsciously.”

“And what is love?”

“Love is feeling, yes, the butterflies I felt in my stomach when I realized I was in love with him and the anxious and the fear of being rejected, the desire for a first kiss. I’m sure it is a feeling. Love it’s all of that. But also a mix of other things.”

He was still looking at Bucky and all of them had frozen, listening so quietly that the sounds outside: the cars and the laughs and the kids, even the crickets, seemed the only sound in the world, turning Sam’s words into something more rich and lovely for the heart.

Sam continued — He had not stopped, really: “Love is care, Miles, affection. Love is respect, commitment, trust. It’s communication. Sometimes unspoken. I know Bucky the way I know the sun will rise. The way I know I won’t live forever. The way I know I will be fighting as long as I breath.

“I care for him and I respect him. I trust him. I’d put my life in his hands and sleep peacefully at night. I feel safe when he’s around. I know he feels the same.

“Loving him makes me happy. Loving him still thrills my heart, warms it in a way that fire can’t. Loving him makes the unbearable life worth living. Love is feeling like I belong wherever he is.

“He is my home and I never want to leave but when I do and come back he is here with a beautiful dinner I could never cook and expensive wine that tastes better than anything I had experienced. He is here waiting for me to come back. He is here and this makes me want to stay. Since he is my home, I work hard to make this home last and I’m never tired of it. Never.”

Sam’s words were soft, almost under his breath. Bucky looked at him from the other side of the table and winked at Sam, playful and comforting. Steve was smiling and Sharon was smiling and Kamala had these deep heart eyes and a big dumb smile, too. Riri couldn’t take her eyes off them.

No one had the guts to say something after.

At least, before he began to breathe again, Sam said, “It’s clear to me: A life without his love is not at all worth it.”

Miles had just witnessed love and intimacy.

He knew it wasn’t perfect, Sam and Bucky, but nothing was perfect. We are all messy even when on the right path. Love should be messy, too.

Whatever kind of love the universe would bring for him in the future. Whatever feelings burned inside of Bucky and Sam for each other. He wanted that. A love with so much trust that goes beyond words. Just something worth fighting for.

“Besides,” Bucky said at least, “Sam is incapable of getting bored of me.”

* * *

**RJ**

At that same night past eleven, RJ had the courage to get out of his room. 

He had been living with Sam and Bucky for three weeks now. Both because he didn’t have anywhere else to live and because they wanted to keep him out of trouble. _Bucky_ wanted to keep him out of trouble. Sam said that it was safer with them and Hydra couldn’t find him.

 _I won’t be here forever, you know,_ he had said and Sam replied something like, _It’s all up to you._

Sometimes he treated RJ too well with so much softness and love that he forgot that he didn’t have a real father because of Bucky.

It scared RJ the fact that Sam made him feel more worthy than his real family. Worthy of life and a new beginning. A life that could include college and dating and _normal_. When Sam talked to him it was like he knew what RJ wanted the most: a place where he belonged. He liked to think his father would’ve loved him and make him feel that way, too, but—

Unlikely.

Still, he blamed Bucky for losing the opportunity to try.

As he walked in the direction of the bathroom, Bucky and Sam’s voices became more understandable and less of murmuring.

They were sitting on the couch, lost on each other’s eyes. Sam had Bucky’s hair between his fingers. Alpine tried to fit on Bucky’s shoulder and he didn’t seem to mind.

RJ stopped to watch. There was something special when it was just the two of them and jealousy grew inside of him when he remembered that maybe he would never be loved that way. Never would find someone that’d accept him as he was, with his past and fucked up mind.

You’re still young.

Sounded like something Sam would tell him.

RJ rested his arm on the wall and listened.

“I didn’t know you were so romantic,” Bucky said. “You made the kids speechless.”

Sam chuckled. “It’s all my mother’s fault. Really. She used to make these beautiful declarations to my father just out of the blue. Part of me always wanted someone to do the same.”

“And you found this someone?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I did.”

“I think,” Bucky said, “This guy’s very lucky.”

“I’m the lucky one.”

Silence remained for a long delicate moment. RJ had been used to it. He often found Sam and Bucky in the living room or on the balcony in silence. A head on a chest or a head on a shoulder. Fingers crossed. The smell of coffee and sweet bread coming from the kitchen. Home.

“Sam,” Bucky said.

“Uh?” Sam’s eyes closed and opened in a search of sleep.

“Marry me.”

Sam had not expected this. RJ could tell by the way his mouth half-opened and eyes went wide. Nevertheless they glowed brighter than any light of the apartment.

“What?”

Bucky picked Alpine up from his shoulders and put her on the ground where she lied and closed her eyes, not aware of what was happening around her.

Bucky walked to their shelf and RJ stepped back, hidden in the shadows. When Bucky came back to the couch he had a little black box in his hands.

Sam breathed in.

“I—,” Bucky said, “I had planned something big and fancy but it never seemed the right time. I was scared you didn’t want this and I didn’t know I wanted this myself until—”

He opened the box.

“Bucky…”

“I love you. And I’m sorry I don’t know how to do fancy speeches like you but I know how to say that you’re everything to me. When you’re not around I miss you like my lungs miss air, and when you come back home it’s like I can breathe again.

“For a long time I hated life. I hated what happened to me and what I did. I thought— fuck, I, I thought that I didn’t deserve a new beginning and a house to call home and love. I didn’t think I deserved you. Cause there’s no one in the world like you. But you loved me back. You love me and you don’t know how happy this makes me feel.

“I didn’t think I’d live this or even want this but the truth is I want. I want to wake up at your side everyday, and kiss you in the dark under our sheets and hold your hand for everyone see and fuck if I care of what people will think. When we moved and I saw you happy and planning everything you wanted to do in our house and when we painted our walls together and you slept in my arms I knew I would do anything to not see you go.

“Because it’s you, Sam. Whatever reason I survived for more than a hundred of years it’s you. I love you.”

Bucky kneeled in front of a Sam that had searching eyes and a tear almost falling.

“Sam Wilson,” he said, “Would you make me the luckiest man in the world and marry me?”

“There isn’t a reality I would say no.”

Sam kissed Bucky.

Bucky kissed him back.

And they kept kissing and laughing and crying.

When RJ turned his back to the living room and started to walk to his room he heard Bucky’s voice playfully saying: “Will you be in the wedding, RJ?”

And Sam said: “Leave him alone. There is food for you in the kitchen.”

Something around RJ’s heart tightened. This house shouldn’t feel like home for him. He shouldn’t belong here and feel this moment.

He never had this: no one cooked for him or asked _do_ _you think of going back to school? College? What do_ you _want?_ No one cared about him like Sam and Bucky did. And it felt wrong, this needing to stay, begging to stay.

He was unwanted yet, for the first, he doubted if this was really true.

“You’re okay?” Bucky asked.

“Yep. I’ll eat,” he said and headed to the kitchen leaving Sam and Bucky there, the men who had shown him a home; the men who couldn’t take their eyes off each other.

**Author's Note:**

> i’m on tumblr: @yusufnick  
> hopefully i’ll be back with a long and chaptered fic soon, love y’all ❤️


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